The next morning, at a darkly early 5:30am, I left the quiet and pleasant hostel; grabbed a taxi, which means any car on the road heading in that direction, and got to the bus stop. Surprisingly organized, with buses lined up behind signs marking their destinations, I paid my fare to the western town of Mongu, got in the front seat and waited for us to fill up and move.
After four hours of sitting, listening to screaming babies, smelling human odour, and generally getting more and more impatient as I watched the early morning fall into late morning, we finally began to move. Obviously, it would take the whole day, perhaps even longer, to reach the town 600 kilometres west of here.






The landscape of western Zambia is flat, rolling savannah, covered in high stalks of grass and whithered trees. This went on for hours upon hours - 12 hours, to be exact. The villages along the way, for the most part, were mud huts with thatched rooves. None of them seemed to have electricity - when evening arrived, all of the villages would only be illuminated by candles. It lent an eerie feel to the drive after dark, watching these people go about their nights under the guise of the soft light of candles. You could see gathering places in the villages lit by candles; you can imagine being in a drinking establishment without electricity.




Along the way we passed straight through one of Zambia's premier parks, and if you believe the guidebooks, one of southern Africa's best parks - Kafue park. This method of mine, travelling by local minibus, is one way to get yourself a cheap imitation of a safari instead of shelling out the bucks to actually go and do it with the tourists. We saw several different species of wildlife along the way through the park: gazelles, chimpanzees, several birds, and zebras. Later on I would find out that these sorts of animals are absolutely everywhere in Africa, but for me, being my first time on the continent, they were a memorable sight. I regret to say that I didn't get any very good pictures of these animals, as we were barreling along the road at 100 kilometres per hour, however did manage to snap a photo of the zebras.



And finally, deep into the night, we arrived in Mongu. Police stop the vehicles every hundred kilometres or so to check their headlights and signals; essentially, something for the police to do. We passed through Kaoma in the late afternoon, which gave me an idea of the towns in this western end of Zambia - sand-filled main streets, stone buildings on either side; it feels like a frontier town. How many times have I used that expression? Imagine the wild west, except with stone buildings and Africans, and you can imagine Kaoma.
All I saw of Mongu in the deep night was the dingy bus station, filled with rusted heaps of buses that had been gutted and turned into bars or restaurants, and some other empty shells of huts being used for selling things, but obviously empty at night. Sand filled the ground, and a lone street light cast a deep shadow over all of us getting off the minibus in the night. A young fellow spoke to me and asked if I needed a place to stay; I said yes. He pointed me to follow him; the driver of the minibus approached me and told me that if I need a place to stay, he would drive me into town and find one for me. He had also bought me water and food along the way; I tried groundnuts for the first time. A nut that tastes like meat - what a treat!
We walked for several hundred feet into the darkness and began to approach what looked like a bar - a faint blue light emanated from below the awning, which gave it an absolutely surreal atmosphere. In the deepest depths of western Zambia, I was approaching a small stone structure with a thatch roof emanating blue light - and then I went inside, gave the kid some money for helping me out, and went to bed in a dingy double bed. The men's washroom of this hotel was so awful that even most men would refuse to go to the bathroom in it - but again, for what I paid the night before, US$3.50, it was essentially nothing for the priveledge.

Well Sean - you wanted remote and odd, and this has to be on the dot. An empty bar with a few women playing cards - the edge of town. This is Africa without a doubt. Oddly enough, the people here are no strangers to tourists, but I have seen very few white people - and the ones I have seen have all looked like aid workers. And of course, that's the way I like it.
If Lusaka is the capital of nowwhere, then Mongu is right in the middle of nowwhere. I'm closer to Angola than I am to Lusaka now - and I'm loving every minute of it.









Mongu & Around
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